Ningaear
by tranquil-resonance
Summary: Ninael's travels with the Shepherds lead her to something far more profound and vexing than amnesia. When a quiet, distant man by the name of Lon'Qu enters the picture, her fate and the course of history are forever altered. (Rating may be raised to M.)
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Fire Emblem or any of it's characters. I only own those whom I have created for the purpose of furthering this story.

Authors Note: I will not be following the chronology of Fire Emblem: Awakening or the plot cue to cue, chapter for chapter. As soon as the background is set, the story will diverge unto a path that tells the story of Avatar and Lon'qu. However, that's not to say that the overall plot will not be followed; while important for purposes such as travels and rising action, it won't be the main focus of the story. Let me know if you have any questions, and please enjoy~!

Just in case you were curious, Ninael's name is sindarian. c;

* * *

Ninael groaned as she burrowed further into the thick pelt of her billowing fur coat. If there was any sort of weather she utterly despised and, if given the power, would callously toss out of the weather spectrum, the cold would easily take the cake. Not only had the Shepherds been traveling for hours on end, suffering debilitating cases of the sniffles and flushed noses, but they had had to occupy a small, blockheaded militia in order to prove their identities, all while facing what she considered to be a horrible blizzard. How exactly barreling at one another with axes and swords proved integrity or lineage, she had no idea, but such was the logic of blustering barbarians. Ninael, being the strategist she was, knew that questioning it would only result in further headache and body heat lost to the biting frost of Feroxi winters.

"Master Chrom, Master Ninael, our distance from the West Khan grows short. We should arrive in Regna Ferox in due time," Raimi called back to the caravan, carefully avoiding the scalding eyes of one very bristled tactiation.

"General, I kindly request the you drop the formalities. However, I digress. If such... courtesies are so necessary, perhaps you should consider a more fitting title," Ninael shot back with a bitten, vindictive smile, earning a disdainful look from Chrom. She briefly wondered if he saw it as his responsibility to keep the two woman from biting each others heads off.

Their encounter at the Feroxi borders had not gone particularly well for the recovering amnesiac, whom had suffered a blow to the shoulder, and while Raimi had been most cordial with the Royal family, she had been less than pleasant with the women of their entourage. Her misogynistic attitude had left Ninael with a rather bitter taste in her mouth, and thus a cold war of backhanded compliments and passive aggressive rhetoric between the two had ensued.

"The two of ya would do well to grasp the phrase 'bite your tongue 'til you bleed through your teeth," a strong voice boomed from ahead, "Flavia, East Khan of Regna Ferox."

Ninael turned her attention away from Raimi to see a head of dirty blonde hair saunter out of the ranks of soldiers summoned to greet the Shepherds, sword resting against her shoulder and bear fur cape billowing in the wind. The tactician had no doubt in her mind that the broad shouldered woman was exactly whom they were here to see.

"The captain of my border guard informs me that your shepherds are quite capable," she said as she extended her hand to Chrom, whom deftly nodded his head in gratitude and grasped her wrist in a firm warrior's handshake.

"They are the finest warriors of the Ylissean guard, though not without hard fought skills and wisdom," he acknowledge, "I am Chrom, leader of the Shepherds and brother to the exalt of Ylisse. We have come to request your guidance and forces in this time of shadow."

"I had a nag that that's what you were here for. However, I'm sorry to say that I can't help ya there. Control of our military and foreign policy has yet to fall into my grasp,"

"I thought that the Khan's held jurisdiction over such matters?"

"They do. However, at the present moment, that god forsaken West Khan reigns over the Feroxi, and I'm left without a damned champion," Flavia complained, obviously disgruntled by something more personal than competition for the throne.

"I beg your pardon, Flavia, but for what reason exactly do you need a champion?" Ninael questioned, stepping forward to join Chrom and the East Khan.

"Every year or so, the Khan of Regna Ferox hold a little competition of sorts. Except it's not little by any means. We chose a champion to fight in the name of East or West, and the Khan with the winning champion rises to rule the region. However, that damned Basilio currently hogs that title," Flavia spat begrudging, but not without a hint of mischief in her eyes, "I tell ya what, Chrom, if you fight as my champion and earn me the title of reigning Khan, I'll support Ylisse however you need me to. The brawl is tonight,"

"I'll do it."

Chrom's words earned a look of surprise from both the Shepherds and Flavia. It was unlike him to make such a brash decision. However, the Shepherds were not one to question their leader, and quickly brushed it aside.

"Are you sure about this, Chrom?" Ninael muttered, unbeknownst to Flavia.

"It's the only option they have. Besides, I'm confident in the skills of both you and the Shepherds, Ninael," he reassured her with a smile.

* * *

And so our story unfolds...

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	2. Chapter 1: Cornering the Lone Wolf

Authors Note: Alright, for the purposes of imagery, I thought it may be a good idea to enlighten you guys on some specificities of the Avatar. Build one, face three, hair three in a silvery blue. She has also been reclassed as a myrmidon, however, she will still act as the tactician for the Shepherds.

Anywho, things will begin to deviate from the beaten path from here on out. Ninael will not always be apart of battles, nor will combat be the main focus of the plot. Lon'qu may also be tossed around here and there as well, but bear with me! I wouldn't change things without a purpose.

If you guys have any preferences of pairings you'd like to see as the plot progresses, do let me know!

Please enjoy~! And remember, the more reviews I get, the more I'll update. Ya gotta love motivation ;D

* * *

"Dammit that hurts,"

Ninael hissed as she removed her top to doctor her wound, tossing it somewhere across the healing ward as she rummaged through the boxes of medical supplies that a Feroxi healer had left for her. By nature, the people of Regna Ferox seemed to be very distrusting of strangers and for the most part kept to themselves, expressing a lack of concern for those that were either unimportant or unrelated to them. While their behavior may have seemed rude to those like Maribelle or Frederick, it did not both Ninael in the slightest, as she had not been in the most chipper of moods as of late. Regna Ferox was frigid, uninviting, and unknown, leaving her with no desire to stay longer than necessary. Even their 'simple' visit to promote diplomatic ties between the two territories had ended in convolution, and she had no desire to see what else the Feroxi had in mind for her unfortunate entourage.

Sighing, Ninael reached behind her to loosen her bindings and fingered the ridges in her skin that rusty lance had carved. She had no doubt that it would leave behind a scar, but that was the least of her concern. The fact that the weapon had been in less than prime condition worried her as they had no time for any of the Shepherds to win an infection from their battle. Dipping a rag into a pail of warm water, she carefully sponged away the grime and bandaged her shoulder gruffly. Reaching to her right, Ninael picked up the thick, dark blue tunic and taupe leggings that lay on the dressing table, slipping the articles of clothing on and donning the fur lined boots that had been left for her. Quickly strapping her sword and knives around her waist, Ninael stopped to ponder her reflection in the mirror only to huff and turn her back to it as she opened the door and trekked down the corridor. Femininity was nothing something she had ever tried or planned to bother with.

As she wandered the halls of the Feroxi capital, she soon found herself in a large, vacant space decorated by a plethora of practice dummies and weapons along it's stone walls. It was then that she noticed the faint body movement flickering in the corner of the room. Squinting her eyes, she attempted to identify what it was and curiously began wandering in the shadow's direction.

Standing before her was a tall, muscular form wielding a blade not unlike her own. He had chiseled features with high cheekbones and a strong jaw, with eyes that boasted the ferocity of a lone wolf. The way he handled his blade was well practiced and graceful, but distinct in that he wielded it with the blade angled behind him. Instantly, she found herself enraptured by the enigma. Smirking, she felt challenge brewing inside of her. Unsheathing the sword that Chrom had gifted her, Ninael fell from the shadows and approached the man before her.

"Perhaps you might find more of a challenge fairing against something animate," Ninael spoke as she charged towards him, blade reared to strike.

The man swung around to look at her, shock and distress etched deeply into his features. However, he quickly recovered and parried her sword, casting it skillfully out of her hands. Stepping back, Ninael watched as her sword clattered to the ground several feet to her left, and reached to draw her knives as her hackles began to rise.

"Tch," the man scoffed tersely as he turned his back to her, posture rigid, and strode away, promptly causing her jaw to plummet to the floor in insult.

"How foolish of you," she spat as she recovered from her astonishment.

Temper rising, Ninael maneuvered into his blind spot and snaked her arm around his abdomen, raising the tip of her tagger to gently brush the skin of his neck. However, instead of the retaliatory response she had been expecting, his breathing hitched and she felt his body grow flushed and warm.

In a split second, she was against the wall with her daggers crossed execution style over her neck. The man looming over her emitted a murderous aura as his eyes blazed a fiery anger she had never encountered before. It was at that moment that Ninael felt a very real, very rare rush of fear and adrenaline course through her veins. Had she by chance approached a brigand mistaking him for a Feroxi soldier? Her heartbeat quickened as she frantically sought to devise a strategy to oust herself from his grasp. But, before she could even draw a breath, he stabbed her daggers into the wall, precariously close to her head, she noted, and backed a good ten feet away from her.

"S-sorry, women really put me on e-dge," he stumbled. The man then proceeded to awkwardly bow in apology, and stalk away from her.

* * *

"Ninael, you are going to wear holes into the floor. May I ask what has gotten you so cross?" Chrom questioned as he observed his tactician pacing back in forth across the now vacant arena.

Ninael simply disregarded him as she combed her memory for whom exactly the man called Marth could have been. A deep crevice of her mind itched that she knew the answer, but she simply could not dig up the evidence she needed. Sighing, she then turned and uncrossed her arms, blinking a few times to try and push her worries away for the time being.

"Too many suspicious characters have arisen recently, and it worries me," She explained. However, she then flicked her wrist to wave off the ordeal, "but, it isn't something to be dealt with now,"

"Right," Chrom said, turning his attention away from Ninael and towards the approaching East Khan.

"Well fought! You have my respect. And, perhaps more to that point, you have your alliance. I will provide Ylisse with the soldiers she needs," Flavia spoke, gratitude and pride evident in her voice.

"Truly? Thank you, East Khan," Chrom acknowledged.

"I should thank you! It feels like ages since I've had full power!"

Ninael then began to drown out the rest of the conversation as her mind drifted back to the man she had encountered the night prior. Although it wasn't unusual for her temper to flare at the thought of being bested, she had never seen such hostility simply because she had pushed someone a little too far. Closing her eyes, she shuddered as she recalled the aggression he had barred in his eyes when he had caught her unawares. 'At least we'll be departing soon' she thought. She was more than willing to trek the blizzard and scorching plains of Ylisse, even face hordes of brigands, if it meant getting away from the man who struck fear into her very core.

"Hold on, boy. Before you go, I have a little present for you," a voice boomed in front of her. Turning her eyes up, Ninael was shocked to find that she hadn't even noticed the entrance of the West Khan.

Her jaw then promptly fell slack as the very man she had been cowering over moments before approached them. 'Well, doesn't this feel like deja vu' she thought as she closed her mouth, hoping to hide her embarrassment. He, on the other hand, was very careful keep his eyes from lingering over her presence, and instead kept his focus on Chrom.

"This is Lon'qu, my former champion. Not much for talking, mind you, but he's peerless with a sword. As good as Marth, in my mind. To be honest, I can't figure out how Marth bested him so quickly," Basilio explained, rubbing his chin.

"What?! Marth beat him? But he looks so big and strong!" Lissa then began to approach him, much to Lon'qu's ill concealed dismay.

"Away, woman!" he growled, grimacing as he met eyes with the much smaller girl. Ninael's eyes tightened at the insolence directed at her friend.

"Ba ha ha! Let's just say the ladies tend to put Lon'qu on edge, my dear," he chuckled, clamping his hand down on both Ninael and Lissa's shoulders reassuringly, "nonetheless, he is capable. Perhaps he even has the makings of a Khan. Consider him West Ferox's contribution to the Ylissean cause."

"You're certain about this?" Chrom asked, skeptical about the Khan's gratuity.

"Yes, yes. He's your man now,"

"Lon'qu, you have no objections?"

"He gives orders, I stab people. I think our roles are clear," Lon'qu answered, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

"Alright then, welcome aboard. However, I would like to request that you act as a bodyguard for a person in our entourage," Chrom said, pausing as his eyes glanced to his left.

Ninael did not like where this was going.

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	3. Chapter 2: Felled

_Authors Note:_ I'm sorry that I dropped off the face of the planet .-. I have been SUPER busy as of late.

I've noticed a trend in the development of Lon'qu by some other authors, and that is that they typically have depicted him as a blushing, almost teenage character. Personally, I am going to take his development in a different direction, because in the support conversations he has had with characters, and in the chapter he appears, he tries to portray his gynophobia as a sort of mild superiority to women. He may not be successful in that endeavour, but he acts that way nonetheless. It just seems that the enigma of Lon'qu would have too much pride to show his weakness to people willingly. But, I digress. Those are just some of my thoughts on matter.

Also, thank you so much to those of you whom have taken the time to review! Not only are they pleasing to my eye and very motivating, but they also help me to see what the readers like and dislike, and therefore improves my writing. So, again, thank you so much for your support and input!

* * *

"Chrom, I never agreed with this!"

"It's for your best interest, Ninael. You tend to get a little reckless on the battlefield, and it'd be a shame to lose such a talented tactician," Chrom conceded, attempting to sweet talk the seething anger out her tone, " and perhaps you could learn a few things from him as well."

Ninael simply grunted as she moved to the front of the column, trying to maintain as much distance as possible from her shiny, brand new bodyguard. He simply followed suit, allowing a good ten feet to exist between them but not being far enough from her that he couldn't keep an eye on his rambunctious charge.

As they arrived at camp, the men and Sully began setting up the barracks for the night. Ninael took note on the fact that Lon'qu's tent was next to her own; something she hoped to remedy soon. The man was mysterious, suspicious even, and she refused to trust him so easily. If anything, she was more than willing to unravel and ravage his ties with the Shepherds if it meant that he would be away from her. Something about the stoic man terrified her, and being in his presence put her senses on edge. However, Ninael knew she would have to suffer through for the sake of democracy and the well-being of her host country. Turning on her heel, she walked to her half-pitched tent and grabbed her sword, saying nothing to those around her. She desperately needed to blow off some steam, away from those whom would try judge or comfort her.

* * *

Finding a comfortable position on a rock that sat in the groves of a riverbed, Ninael sat for a moment in thought before she took out her blade and began to sharpen her sword. She had never known why, but she always found comfort in the arms of flowing ravines and crashing waves. It was almost as if the presence of the water granted her the maternal comfort she so lacked; it beckoned her, welcomed her even, no matter how lost or hopeless she felt. Sighing, her thoughts drifted to question concerning what her previous home and family were like; did the land miss her? Her mother, or her father; did they miss her? It was a lonely thought, but not one that caused her grief. Ninael had allowed herself to find solace and affection within the Shepherds and gates of Ylisse in spite of her recent plight; it allowed her to leave her daunting loneliness behind her, even if only for the time being, and she treasured those relationships more than she valued her own life.

It was at that moment that the pitter patter of a carelessly shuffled rock caught her attention, and her senses went into overdrive. One step, then another. Soon they lacked the rhythm of stride and collided against one another in a noise that could only be an ambush.

_Shit._

Ninael rose into a low defensive crouch and grasped her sword in her left hand as brigands surrounded her from every corner; it was almost as if she were a lion cub be cornered by scoundrel hyenas, picking a fight where the game would be easily won and toyed with. While she knew that she could brew up a scheme that would make up in brains what some had for brawn, it wasn't something she could do with the number she had against her.

"Here girlie girlie. Don't worry, it'll only hurt fors a second before you'lls be screaming my name in pleasure, you little bitch," the supposed leader cat called in her direction as their formation tightened, "or, maybe a better way to says it, _my_ little bitch."

The brutish words ignited her temper as she blitzed the leader, blade cocked to her right side. Bearing her sword down hard, she aimed for his axe hand and mercilessly hacked it from it's appendage, leaving it's owner writhing in searing pain. His cries echoed in the silence of the moment, Ninael's toes curling at it's unadulterated grueling agony, as his accomplices turned to her with eyes full of murderous loyalty and rage.

In hindsight, cutting off his hand might not have been a wise decision.

Ninael began to step away from the group in the direction she had come, hoping to find some sort of support in a tree that would shield her back from a sneaky blade as she tried to devise a route of escape. Unfortunately, her thoughts were in shambles as fear slowly began to seize her. She had always served as support in her battles with Chrom, and had yet to gain enough combat experience to tough out a battle as the lead attacker, let alone left to her own devices. She the strategist had in fact left a hole in her plan and exposed her weakness to the enemy, something which she would forever carry in shame. Glancing around the group of approaching mercenaries, she shuddered as she watched their archers notch several arrows to their bows, decidedly relaying to her that the her predicament was becoming worse with each passing moment.

Ninael winced as she heard the arrows whistle through the air, raising her sword in an attempt to shield herself from their iron rain. Gasping, she shut her eyes as an arrow screeched past her ear and embedded itself with a dull thud into the tree trunk adjacent to her. However, the few resounding thunks that she had expected quickly transitioned into the rapid succession of clanging steel. Just as the sick slice and gurgle of dying men silenced the battle, she waited until the maelstrom had quieted to peek at the whom or what her savior had been, only to leave have her jaw plummet to the grassy earth.

Approaching her was a concerned, albeit apprehensive, Lon'qu. However, his expression quickly turned quizzical as her eyes widened in fear.

Shoving him out of the way, Ninael haphazardly slashed at the sorcerer whom was murmuring in strange, lost tongues just to the right of him. And while her blade met flesh and blood spewed before her eyes, her vision dimmed to a hazy violet as a hex began to slither into her body.

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